Blue Sky Promise
by RobynSawyerFFXIV
Summary: When the safe zones on the first floor of Aincrad suddenly start turning into a free PVP zones a cynical mercenary, a spunky young knight, and a straight-laced colonel from the Aincrad Liberation Army must band together to evacuate the citizenry while under attack from an opportunistic bandit guild.
1. Chapter 1: Bolo, the Mercenary

The first floor of Aincrad was a vast countryside, its moors separated by lush forests and connected by well-trodden roads and flanked by sandstone mountains that reflected the sunset every evening, wrapping both ground and sky in heavenly light. Springs were vibrant and winters were mild, and there was never a lack of harvest. If it weren't for the threat of death outside the walls of the towns, one could live an idyllic existence there until the end of time.

That is until one spring day when an invisible clock in the game's code reached zero. Unbeknownst to anybody, this clock signaled a leaf hidden deep within the first floor's thickest forest to suddenly rot and fall from its branch. But before it died the leaf passed its miasma on to the leaves next to it. The miasma leapt from one organism to the next, killing plants, bugs, and eventually animals. And it was heading for the Town of Beginnings.

On the thirty-third floor a group of bandits had taken up residence in a castle nestled in the jagged teeth of a canyon. It was a sunless landscape, its air thick with fumes that spewed from the earth and mixed with the clay-red dust of the ground to form a coarse mist that hurt to breathe. Through this mist Bolo stalked upon the castle.

Bolo was a man as rough as the canyon air, though perhaps not as friendly. His facial features were meaty and his six-foot-tall frame was built to withstand conditions humanity hadn't seen since the last ice age. His tawny skin did not sweat easily, even as he trudged through the canyon wrapped in an amber cloak. Protruding from this cloak was a thick great sword, nearly the size of the brutish man that carried it. Bolo deliberately left it visible to let any ambushers know what kind of greeting to expect out of him.

Bolo stopped precisely three hundred yards outside the castle's foremost wall. Crossbows could shoot up to about four hundred yards, but not accurately, and not without Bolo noticing. He deployed a spyglass from his pocket and peered at the top of the wall, where he found his suspicions were confirmed: The occupants of the castle had already noticed him. Even from so far away Bolo could see the unmistakable glint of eyes alert to danger. They scurried this way and that, preparing some unfriendly welcome for him, their tense movements silent under the low hum of the canyon wind.

Many people find it hard to trust bandits, and while Bolo would agree that they can't be relied upon to tell the truth or fulfill their promises he believed that they were at least motivated by a basic sense of self-preservation. Bolo removed his cloak, then disrobed himself of the white tank top he wore under it. He wrapped the tank top around the end of his sword then waved the makeshift white flag in wide motions where the bandits could see him. After a moment of conspiring with each other, the bandits returned the gesture. Bolo clothed himself and approached the castle.

"Hey," Bolo spoke loudly enough to be heard over the wind, but evenly enough to signal to the bandits that he was not at all alarmed that there were fourteen of them and one of him. "Ya'll know why I'm here?"

In a previous life Bolo was the furthest thing from a police officer, but he knew well enough how police officers talked to invoke their tricks. A question like that, posed to a person living by unscrupulous means, was a disarming tool. Perhaps the more seasoned and amoral of the bandit group's members were numb to it, but any junior members among them were suddenly thinking, "Why am I here? What have I done wrong? I've done lots wrong... How much does he know about...?"

Atop the wall only one bandit made himself visible. He had hair like a cherry and the face of a choir boy. He also wore a thin, excited smile that indicated to Bolo that the boy did not posses a mindset that knew to be afraid, even when he should be. In his mind Bolo decided that this boy, young as he looked, was likely the leader, and mentally noted him as "Choir Boy".

Choir Boy sat on the castle's wall and looked down at Bolo, chirping, "I know exactly why you're here, sir. You're here to sell us something."

Bolo responded with silence to egg Choir Boy on. It worked.

"I can only think of two reasons why you'd come allllllll the way out here. The first is that you're a salesman desperate to make a quota, and you know how well-off my friends and I are..."

If the bandits meant to attack Bolo while Choir Boy spoke, Bolo saw no sign that Choir Boy was signaling any of his "friends". Maybe they had made their plan of attack beforehand? Maybe Choir Boy's "salesman" speech was the signal? Bolo's eyes wandered across the wall and around the gate at its center. There were slots to fire arrows at anyone laying siege to the gate, and hatches for assailants to leap from the wall onto the ground in order to counter-attack. So whether he went through the gate or over the walls, Bolo would meet resistance.

"...The second reason you came here is if you wanted to die. Do you want to die, big man?" Choir Boy smiled as if the question were terribly clever and intimidating.

"Nope." Bolo rumbled in response.

"Then sell me something." Choir Boy said back.

Bolo considered cutting to the chase and charging the castle right then. It would've been quite the witty retort to Choir Boy's taunting... But in the moment Bolo felt his killing intent mount in his body he saw Choir Boy's eyes light up in excitement. Taking a moment's pause to consider this tiny reaction, Bolo decided that that was likely Choir Boy's entire strategy: Goad attackers into underestimating him by acting the part of the self-aggrandizing sadist, then punish them when they act too decisively. Perhaps such a trick would work on someone less familiar with violence.

Bolo produced a photograph from his pocket. It was small, so he flicked his wrist and sent it flying up to Choir Boy. On it was the image of a teenage girl, smiling with her arms wrapped around a slightly older young man. Choir Boy studied this image for no more than a moment. Of course, he recognized both subjects of the photo.

"Are you here to sell the girl or the boy?" Choir Boy asked.

"Where's the girl?" Bolo's words cut through the wind and deflated Choir Boy's smile.

Choir Boy sighed. It was the first genuine emotion Bolo observed him to elicit. "Why won't you let me have my fun? Why can't you just play along?"

Bolo didn't answer. It wasn't until the gravity of this particular wind-tinged silence set in that Choir Boy noticed that Bolo's player indicator was as red as his own.

Choir Boy tapped a finger on the castle wall upon which he sat. "You look strong. You can join us if you want. We can pay you more for a month's work than a thousand jobs searching for lost sluts."

What Choir Boy was really saying was "I'd rather not fight you". Bolo took this compliment as a sign of weakness.

Bolo's hand darted behind his back and whipped back around to reveal a whip. It unfurled in an instant, slinging towards Choir Boy's legs. The young man reacted by pushing himself back over the castle wall, narrowly dodging Bolo's attempt to capture him. Immediately two hatches opened on the face of the castle. In each hatch there was one young man wielding two crossbows, one in his arms and another on the floor next to him. They each fired simultaneously. Bolo shifted his weight to dodge one shot, but took a chance and let the other one hit him.

Bolo deliberately took the bolt in the shoulder in order to keep his weight balanced as his slung his whip again, this time ensnaring one of the young men just as he picked up his second crossbow. He pulled the boy out of his hatch on the wall, whereupon he suffered a harsh fall onto the ground. Bolo was already rushing forward and the boy reeled from the fall. By the time he opened his eyes, Bolo had already brought the thick steel of his blade over his shoulder and split the young man's head in half, killing him instantly.

"No!"

The other shooter cried out in anguish as he saw his friend die. Bolo snatched up the crossbow the dead boy left behind and turned his attention to the friend. Bolo loosed a bolt, but the other shooter closed the hatch before it could connect. Bolo yanked the bolt in his shoulder out of his body and placed it in the crossbow. Behind the walls he could hear the scurrying of the dozen remaining pairs of feet. They threw open the gates and filed out, confident enough in their numbers and vengeful enough in their anger to gamble on a frontal counterattack.

"Go, go, go! Don't let him get away with killing David!" Choir Boy ushered his friends out of the gate, then slammed it shut behind them. The group was too white-hot with anger to notice their leader didn't follow them. Bolo returned his whip to behind his back and lowered his brow, great-sword in one hand and plundered crossbow in the other.

"I'm here for the girl," Bolo finally raised his voice; none of his opponents were over twenty-one. Killing them was a cruel waste. "If any of you want to live, leave now."

Not one of them left.

Choir Boy scurried through the castle keep's halls. There was luxurious furniture laden with silk and velvet, tender meat and the sweetest fruit one could find, as well as prideful piles of cor wherever there might otherwise be empty space. Choir Boy had run an effective player-killing raiding party since the second day of the game; it had been his secret dream in the real world. So frequently he saw his father use money to acquire pleasure, prestige, and security, Choir Boy fantasized about the dangerous and sexy life of a pirate. He imagined himself seizing these things for himself in a life of dangerous adventures. But part of the appeal of that fantasy was that he knew it was a risky endeavor. The dream had to end someday.

Choir Boy found a bag of acceptable girth and began shoveling cor into it. The sound of fighting outside carrier on the harsh canyon winds and spurred Choir Boy to move faster. "They're still fighting. That man isn't dead. And he probably won't die. He's going to kill everyone out there, then he's gonna come in here... For me..." Faster and faster and faster Choir Boy inundated himself with rings, necklaces, and bejeweled silks. Finally he made his way to the castle's highest tower.

Choir Boy burst into Carly's room, unannounced as usual. She cringed away from the doorway, curling deeper into her bed. The bed was the only refuge she had found since being kidnapped- it was warm and wide, and though each of her limbs was chained to one of its posts, its untarnished sheets were consistent reminders that she hadn't yet given in to her captor's tortures. For weeks she had been starved and sleep deprived by Choir Boy and his bandits; they meant for her to allow them "in", which was a trickier process than in the real world. They couldn't risk killing her by torturing her body, so they assaulted her mind in every way available to them. On Choir Boy's entrance into her chamber Carly reflexively buried her face into the bed, hiding her vision from whatever impending pain he had prepared for her.

Much to her surprise however, Choir Boy did not follow the usual rhythm of his tortures. Rather than moving slowly and talking verbosely, he darted across the room, did not speak, and set about unlocking Carly's chains. Carly noticed the change in Choir Boy's demeanor, but said nothing. She had known months of torture and isolation, and there was no reason for her to believe this was anything more than a new rhythm for an old song.

Before Choir Boy could undo the last chain there was a sudden, sharp whistling sound and he was dragged away. Carly's face stayed buried in the bed, but she could hear her captor his the floor and gasp. "No!" Choir Boy cried, "No, no, no! No! Dad! Dad, help! Dad, wake me up! Dad! D-" then his voice was no more.

Carly was too scared to breathe. A pair of heavy boots signaled the presence of someone she didn't recognize. Even without looking at him she felt the coarse shadow of his violent intent. He couldn't have gotten here without slaughtering all fourteen of her captors. Carly's blood turned to ice imagining what cruel monster had come to drag her down to an even deeper hell.

...But just when she was ready to experience a pain beyond everything she had suffered since her kidnapping, a pair of massive hands took the last chain off of her. At a distance from the edge of the bed, Bolo knelt down and spoke softly.

"Ma'am, my name is Bolo. I was sent here by your boyfriend to rescue you."

Carly was hesitant to accept these words. "Alan is dead." she whimpered.

"He said you'd think that. He told me to tell you that he survived the fall."

Bolo's employer never went into detail about the circumstances behind this message, but it didn't take much deduction for Bolo to figure out what must have happened.

Carly was not yet ready to move. Inside her mind it felt impossible to acknowledge that the situation Bolo described was real. In fact, it felt impossible to even acknowledge that she was no longer in chains.

The figure beside Carly stood up and removed his cloak. He draped it gently over her, then stepped back and returned to a respectable distance. The amber fabric was thick and heavy. It felt as warm and protective as the bed below her. Carly finally turned and looked upon Bolo. It had been months since she had last seen someone that neither imposed themselves on her, nor turned their backs on her.

"Alan's alive? He sent you...?"

Carly pulled herself from the bed and tried to stand. She took note that Bolo took a step back in response to her movement and wondered if he had figured out what she had been through. "If that's the case," she thought, "I'm glad we don't have to speak about it." There was a warrior-like pride in her that was ready to reject any patronizing aid she was offered, even if she knew she'd likely need it given the shape she was in. When she was abducted by the bandits Carly went down fighting, tranquilized after killing one of them, certain that she wouldn't wake up. The hell that awaited her after she did was far crueler than any pointless, anonymous death though. For a long while she had gone away inside, dealing with the torments of day-to-day captivity by denying their reality. She lied chained to the bed, quietly carving her heart into a dagger. She found that if she resisted the temptation to reason out hope for herself then she also became immune to the catastrophic thinking that would inevitably lead to despair. "Once these chains are broken," she would tell herself, "I'll kill these losers and everything will go back to normal."

Carly was aware that this feeling was highly irrational, but at the same time there wasn't an argument on earth that could make her give it up. It was an insubstantial belief, a prayer against all logic, but it kept her alive. Now her chains were broken, and while she couldn't kill her captors any more dead than they already were she could at least prove to herself that "normal" could be achieved. Which is why it was so important to her that Bolo keep his distance: If he stepped in and began "helping" her, then it would be like telling her that she was too wounded to ever go back to normal. That was a notion she could not abide.

Carly felt her legs quake under her own weight and she swiftly fell back onto the bed. Bolo didn't move. He expected she'd ask for help if she wanted it. That's what he expected when she turned her eyes up to him, but instead Carly said, "Bolo, was it? Did they still have all that cor piled up in the long hall?"

"Yeah."

"Go get a bag and fill it up as much as you can. I'm not leaving without some reparations. I'll be able to walk by the time you get back."

"Alright. You hungry?"

Carly's eyes turned downwards. Part of her was still scared- as irrational as it was- that this "rescue" was part of some increasingly elaborate torture. As a result her heart was pulled in two different directions: On one hand she wanted to rebuke her hunger and refuse food, take all the money she could carry, and then stand up and walk out of the castle as if nothing bad had ever happened. On the other hand she wanted to cry, eat voraciously, and wait for Alan to come along to carry her out in his arms.

While Carly brooded over answering Bolo's question, Bolo silently handed her a buttered roll- rather spartan food for someone as high level as himself- simplifying the issue for Carly tremendously. She bit into it, but she did not cry. She could allow herself this kindness, at least, without completely melting down over her misfortune.

Within twenty minutes Carly was on her feet, though she walked like a baby giraffe, and Bolo had returned with the bag of plunder. Carly wobbled over to where Choir Boy had died. His remains included a large knife that was horribly familiar to her. Carly rasped, "I take it we can't use a teleport crystal to get out of here?"

Bolo handed her a pouch of water, "Nope. Nearest waypoint is about a day's march away. Sorry, but we're not out of the woods-"

The crack of a blade splitting wood interrupted Bolo. Carly started by stabbing the frame of the bed, where the chains connected her limbs to it. Then she worked her way down to the bed's underside, flipping it over and dismantling it one tiny fracture at a time. Soon the bed was no more than chunks of wood, and the tremble had left her legs. Carly spat the words, "I wish you hadn't killed him so quickly."

Bolo understood this notion perfectly well. He responded immediately, "Sorry, I-"

"Don't apologize." Carly interjected. Bolo did not respond this time. He watched Carly as she stood, knife in hand, seething before the corpse of the bed she had been chained to for months. "You've apologized twice now for things that aren't your fault. I hate when people do that. When a person apologizes all the time it really just shows they have no remorse for what's going on, whether they're at fault or not."

Carly didn't realize her breathing had quickened so much until she was done talking. Once she got a hold over herself she wiped the sweat from her face and mumbled, "Sorry, I didn't mean to speak so recklessly. I don't mind a little bit of a walk. Anywhere is better than this ugly place. Let's go."

The road out of the canyon was a ten mile uphill slog through buffeting wind and stifling, sunless heat. When at last the pair emerged from the thick haunt of dust and gas they were greeted by a star field above them, brighter than any they could see in the real world, stained blue and purple by distant nebulae and casting frail shadows on the nighttime below.

For that whole ten miles Carly became increasingly aware of Bolo's "tall, dark, quiet type" mode of behavior. He had not spoken to her except when necessity demanded it ("Eat this bread", "Hold this rope", "Go slow the trail is thin"). She had considered trying to engage him in conversation, but Carly was still at a point in life where experience taught her that no male was capable of receiving female attention without interpreting it as romantic or sexual interest. So, she refrained, and kept as quiet as he did.

However, when the pair came out of the canyon and beheld that starry sky, something turned inside her. It had been months since she had been outside the castle. "How long has it been," without thinking she was wondering aloud, "since I even thought of the sky? When was the last time I had a picture of it in my mind?" Speaking these words Carly felt like her own voice was shaking her awake. The reality of her captivity did not settle upon her gently and inescapably- the psychological walls she had built up over the past few months were far too strong to let that happen.

Instead it felt like the inside of her skull was struck with a lightning bolt. Memories of spending days in pitch black solitude tried to creep into her head, and with the reflex of instinct Carly's mind slammed the door on those memories. Carly's head grew heavy and her balance wavered. She would've fallen over if she weren't alerted by Bolo's voice.

"You okay?"

Carly's mind was suddenly pulled back into reality. Bolo was there, knelt by a pile of wood he had made on the ground. Carly clenched her fist. "Don't be foolish. Of course I'm okay. I'm alive, aren't I? I just... Forgot what the sky looked like."

Bolo, for his part, was old enough to know that anyone who forgets what the sky looks like is not okay. "I see," he said. Carly responded with an ashamed aversion of the eyes that let Bolo know that she was old enough to figure that out as well. "We need stones," Bolo said, "can you go get stones while I set up the tents?"

"Stones." Carly thought. "Stones, we need stones. Stones. Stoooooooooones. Stonestonestones." Carly repeated the word in her brain until it lost all meaning. She came back with a bundle of big, beefy stones that took all her strength to carry together. The activity kept her centered on the real world, rather than drifting through her memories. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?" Carly asked Bolo as he finished setting up their tents. As soon as she asked it Carly became aware that it was an odd question. Or rather it would be, if she were wrong.

"Yup." Bolo mumbled.

"A question followed by a one-word answer is hardly a conversation," Carly said. She sat down and began lighting the fire as Bolo turned to her with an eyebrow raised.

"What do you want me to say?" Bolo responded. It was the most perplexed Bolo had sounded since Carly had met him.

"I don't know. Something about yourself. I appreciate the space you're giving me, but right now I don't think I'll enjoy the quiet that much. How did you figure gathering stones would help me calm down?"

Bolo pulled his sword off his back and plunged it into the ground by the fire. He sat with his back against it and took his time putting together a response. "Experience." He said.

"Uuuuuugghhghhhghghhhhhh," Carly fell onto her back with a frustrated smile. She popped back up and said, "Can you elaborate? Maybe use two words? Or three?"

Bolo was glad to see the girl enjoy herself, though it did put him in a precarious position. He had a vague idea of what she was going through: The denial, the sudden pain, the need to focus on anything else, all of it. He had been through similar things. If he spoke about himself he was sure to distract Carly from her own anguish, but he might reopen his own. Bolo's shoulders hunched and he asked, "Carly, how old do you suppose I am?"

"Uh-oh. My mom asked me this question sometimes. There's always a wrong answer."

Bolo shook his head, "No wrong answer. Just guess. I know from the information your boyfriend gave me that you're sixteen. Where would you put me if you had to guess?"

Carly enjoyed the mental exercise Bolo suggested. The fact that he compared their ages lead Carly to believe that he was either younger than he looked, or older than he looked. She had never seen him pretend towards wisdom though, which was a trait she associated with men closer to her age. Plus, guys liked when she thought they were older than they were, so she confidently said, "Thirty-seven years old."

Bolo tilted his head, "You got closer than most. I'm twenty four."

Carly's eyebrows raised involuntarily. A cool wind blew from the opposite direction of the canyon and Carly found herself too distracted by her miscalculation to keep from shivering. Her eyes scrambled over his rough features and dense body for any signs of youth. She found none. "...Really? For your age you're pretty... Mature."

Bolo chuckled. "Yeah. Last person I was in a, uh, long term relationship with told me that stress can make a person age faster. I know you don't want to talk or even think about what you just went through, so forgive me if I'm a bit brief with you. But it seems that the thing you and I have most in common is that we've both been dealing with violence since a young age."

The weight of memory returned to Carly's mind, but not as a lightning bolt this time. Now it came like a soft rain; at the same time she tensed up from its presence she also felt some "tension" inside her loosen its grip on her heart. The nameless tension did not let go- Carly wasn't even aware of it till it lessened- but the sympathy in Bolo's words brought a light catharsis to Carly's whole body. "So it's possible to experience something like that... And live to at least your age?"

Bolo nodded.

Carly's lower lip grew heavy. Not a single thought occupied her mind, but the feeling in her body told her she was about to cry. In response she cast an angry tone, "I was in that room where you found me for months, but sometimes they'd unshackle me while I slept. They'd even leave the door to the room open. The first couple of times they did that I made a run for it. I was so scared I could barely think. I just wanted to scream the whole time I was running, but I held it in. It was so hard, but I held it in... But it turned out to be a trick. They chased me through the castle. It was a game for them. Even when I made it to the front gate, it was locked. I could never have escaped. It was all just a sick joke they played on me. It happened two more times before I stopped even trying to escape. There's was no way for me to know what escape attempt was my own doing, and what was part of their game." Carly paused for a long time, venting the air from her lungs in a rough sigh to keep herself from breaking down. "Even now I'm not sure if they're going to come charging up the path to kill you and take me again."

"They won't." Bolo rumbled, "I'm certain. I killed them all."

Carly nodded and spoke with a choked voice, "That's good." Her chest quivered. She couldn't remember the last time she let herself cry. "But even though I know they're dead... Even though I heard one of them die... I'm still afraid. Why? Why is this happening? Will I still be afraid of them eight years from now?"

Bolo paused to think before he answered. Buddha said that words that were both true and kind could work miracles. It was one such miracle that Bolo was looking for. "You will remember them," Bolo said, "you'll carry these experiences with you all your life. There was no reason it happened to you. It wasn't an ordeal that will enable you to face down greater obstacles in the future. It wasn't some magnificent call to adventure. No, your terror will provide you with none of that. But that doesn't mean you can't face down those greater obstacles. It doesn't mean you can't live a life of adventure. The people who kidnapped you didn't mean to make you stronger, but that doesn't mean you can't be stronger afterwards."

It was not a painful cry that came upon Carly. She could imagine herself crying in submission to her memories, whimpering like a whipped animal. She hated the familiarity of that image. But that was not the image she had of herself when she cried before Bolo right then. In that moment crying wasn't the result of giving up, but the product of endurance. "I wish I had been the one to kill them." she said. Carly put her hands into her face as her body jerked with heavy sobs. Crying then felt more similar to an external act like running than an internal one like sorrow. It felt like breaking free.

Bolo woke from restless dreams at sunrise, long before Carly stirred from sleep. She had cried herself unconscious before they even got a chance to eat dinner, so Bolo prepared breakfast while she slept, his eyes glazed from tiredness. Rarely did Bolo sleep well; his thoughts were plagued with dreams in the shape of memories. For this reason Bolo envied Carly's emotional release. Bolo could never imagine telling Carly, or anyone else for that matter, just how deep his disassociation from reality ran at times. When he looked at the starry sky the night before he felt nothing; it wasn't that he forgot what the sky looked like as Carly did, nor had he gotten bored of it. It was a strange sensation, but even as he looked right at the beautiful splendor of the sky above him, Bolo felt as if he had his back to it. It's as if the beauty wasn't even there for him.

This feeling infested everything- it's why he ate hard bread and wore little clothing beyond what was necessary. It's why he could kill teenage boys and young men with complete dispassion. Sure, he believed they deserved it; who knows how many people they had killed to amass their wealth? But in the pit of his stomach Bolo nursed a fear that he would kill someone just as flippantly if they didn't "deserve" it. Whenever he looked too long at a person he felt as though he could begin to see their flaws, their misdeeds, their sins, all bleeding through their skin like tattoos. He was imagining things, obviously- but in the moment it never felt that way.

Bolo told Carly that she would survive what she was currently feeling. He believed this, just as he believed he would survive the fight he got into the day before. Even moving on instinct survival came so naturally to Bolo that he never questioned his abilities in that area, nor did he doubt anyone else's if they were determined to survive. But he did not tell Carly his deepest conviction, the thought that plagued him on every starry night, every beautiful sunrise, and that he perceived written on the bodies of every person he met: "The world is an ugly place."

Carly woke up quietly, Bolo suspected ashamedly. She wasn't proud of crying in front of what was essentially a stranger. Worse, that stranger had made her breakfast. "What an asshole!" she thought. Obviously Carly still ate the food, but just as she was afraid of giving males too much attention, it made her uneasy to receive this kind of caring attention from one, especially one eight years older than herself.

After breakfast they were back on the trail and closing in on the waypoint. They reached it before lunch time and from there teleported to the first floor, directly to the doorstep of the Aincrad Liberation Army. The ALA guildhall was a building far wider than it was tall, and its interior was made of tile and plaster and decorated with instructional posters. "Wow, it feels like a real-world government building," Carly said. "Because of course, if you're gonna bring the real world into a fantasy world, why not start with the DMV?"

"The DMV?" Bolo asked, unfamiliar with the term.

"Oh, the universal translator probably didn't catch that. It's an American building notorious for being boring."

The pair approached the front desk and spoke briefly with the impatient, humorless old woman behind it. She scurried off to find Bolo's boss, which Carly took as leave to hop up, sit on the desk, and chirp, "I can't believe you work for these losers."

Bolo tilted his head, "Chill. They're alright."

"They take themselves too seriously." Carly said.

"They've found themselves in a serious situation." Bolo said this and watched Carly process the words. She paused to consider whether or not she wanted to respond; she deduced rather quickly that Bolo might not share her view on the ALA, and debated internally whether her all-too-common negative opinion on the ALA was something she was willing to have a serious conversation about.

Carly decided that she was tired and not interested in being convinced of anything, so she shrugged and said, "Yeah I guess." She fully intended on talking about something else (to keep her mind occupied, like the night before) when a voice came flying from across the hall.

"Carly?" Alan, Carly's boyfriend, took a few measured steps down the hall, cupping his hands over his mouth in disbelief. He composed himself enough to break out into a mad dash towards Carly at the same time Carly did the same towards him. They collided into each others' embrace.

"Alan, I'm so sorry-"

"Are you okay?"

"-I didn't realize how many there were-"

"I looked for you, I swear-"

"-I thought I was gonna turn around and run but, but-

"-I wouldn't let them have you-"

"-I love you!"

"-I love you!"

The couple cried, kissed, and cried some more. This was the inelegant crying Carly feared the night before. But she was together in it with Alan, and with him all weakness seemed to be forgivable. Carly turned to Bolo, who was giving her a respectable distance as usual. She smiled and approached him, taking off the cloak that he had draped over her. It was just yesterday that they had met, yet the cloak felt like such a precious gift when she looked down at it. She handed it to Bolo and said, "You probably want this back." A pair of tears fell from her face. She wiped them away and sighed, "I probably look like such a fool right now."

Bolo smirked and said, "Probably, but don't worry about it. And keep the cloak... It would feel odd wearing it after you."

Carly hesitated in putting it back on; she understood what he meant. She barely felt comfortable wearing it when she thought of the circumstances in which she received it. At the same time though it was thick and protective, and she felt exposed when she didn't have it on. Carly decided that the only compromise she could make in the moment was to store it in her inventory. Then she look at Bolo and said, "Well Bolo, I guess this is where we part ways."

"Indeed." Bolo said. Carly extended her hand out to him and he shook it. Both of them knew what the other was aware of: Something was being left unsaid. But Carly didn't want to say anything foolish and Bolo didn't want to take up any more of her time, so they let go of each other.

Carly said, "Thank you for everything." And left.

"Kazumi, nice to see you," Bolo said. Kazumi was Bolo's main contact with the Aincrad Liberation Army; the ALA frequently employed mercenaries such as Bolo for their work. Most times these contracts were for crafters and unskilled manual labor in the interest of public works projects. The ALA intended to serve the people, after all. But serving the people sometimes meant particularly risky endeavors, and no one would work for the ALA if there was a chance that their next job could get them drafted into a battle or pitted against a murder-guild. "I'm surprised you came down here to see me. I didn't think you'd be interested in the reunion of young people in love."

"I'm not," Kazumi said in the terse tone Bolo had come to associate with him. Kazumi was prone to not moving his jaw and speaking through his teeth, making all of his words sound like they were bubbling with frustration even when he was perfectly content with life. As a result he was a bit hard to read. Kazumi went on, "I have another job for you Bolo, and it's urgent."

"Two jobs back-to-back is unusual. What's the situation?"

Despite the lobby being completely empty, save for the receptionist, Kazumi's eyes shifted back and forth. Bolo knew the man to be cold, practical, and not prone to hysterics. So when Kazumi seemed to look around for fear of some invisible eavesdropper, Bolo began to worry against all logic that there might actually be an invisible eavesdropper. Kazumi finally leaned in and whispered to Bolo, "There's a developing incident. We have reason to believe that the first floor's anti-PVP field is about to disappear completely."


	2. Chapter 2: Kazumi, the Strategist

In the center of the Aincrad Liberation Army's headquarters a meeting was hastily put together over the course of the day. Kazumi dragged Bolo along for all of the bureaucratic trappings, despite the fact that he was possibly the least qualified person on the planet to help with any of it. Bolo was patient and said nothing to antagonize Kazumi though as the man was clearly beyond stressed. To Bolo it appeared as though Kazumi hadn't slept in at least thirty hours; his usually well-combed black hair was erratically frayed, he frequently rubbed the side of his forehead when he spoke, and he avoided eye contact for most of his interactions.

In the year that Bolo had been working with Kazumi he had never once seen Kazumi lose his cool or speak louder than a firm, authoritative tone. That day Bolo watched Kazumi raise his voice once, and it was during the course of the meeting.

Bolo was surprised by the makeup of the meeting: Seated around a large round table were envoys from the Divine Dragons Alliance and Knights of the Blood Oath (Bolo recognized neither envoy, but he was not in the business of diplomacy so that was not surprising), as well as a woman Bolo did know. Her name was Sasha, and she ran an orphanage on the first floor. Beside her was Kibaou, Grand General of the ALA, and Thinker, the former Grand General. As everyone took their seats Bolo leaned in and asked Kazumi, "Kaz, what did you say to get a charity worker and two political opponents to sit down in the same room together?"

Kazumi turned his head and whispered, "Don't worry about that yet. Just sit beside me, look tough, and don't speak unless spoken to."

Bolo always suspected Kazumi didn't have a high opinion of his intelligence. In some cases this bothered him, but he could practically smell the testosterone coming off of Kibaou and Thinker; in the interest of being civil, Bolo decided to obey Kazumi for the time being.

"Thank you all for showing up on such short notice," Kazumi began, "and special thanks must go to Grand General Kibaou. I doubt anyone here would listen to me alone, so I appreciate him lending my words credence."

"Don't be too humble," Thinker interjected, "Kibaou wouldn't have helped you unless he saw there was something to be personally gained from it."

From across the room the Divine Dragons Alliance envoy balked, "Ha! I'm not terribly familiar with lower-level politics, but aren't you two from the same guild?"

Kazumi could see Kibaou and Thinker take a breath to respond. He attempted to say, "Please, let's not trade insults, there are more important matters at hand," but was cut off before he could speak a single syllable.

"Careful who you call 'low-level'," Kibaou said, arms crossed, "My guild outnumbers yours ten-to-one. If my goals weren't so philanthropic I could march my army into your guildhall and turn it into my personal villa."

"Everyone, please," Kazumi managed to say, "there is an emergency-"

"You don't have a philanthropic bone in your body," Sasha hissed, "I don't know why I was called here along with a thug like you..."

"Can we let Kazumi speak?" The Knights of the Blood Oath envoy raised their voice. "It sounds important."

"Thank you. Now if you'll take a look at this map-" Kazumi began, but was cut off when Kibaou shot out of his seat.

"And you, Mr. Knight-of-the-Blood-Oath! Your guild is so secretive and so prideful! Why should we even let you in on this meeting if you won't-"

Kazumi slammed both his fists on the table and stood up, barking, "If you fools don't shut up and listen everyone on the first floor is going to be dead before the end of the week!"

While the group, including Bolo, reeled from Kazumi's outburst, Kazumi pressed a button that lit round table up and turned it into a 3D holographic map of the first floor. A section of one of the forest areas was highlighted red. Kazumi spoke, "This is the first floor. The section highlighted in red is a part of the center-most forest on the floor. It was observed two days ago by a scout in my battalion that this forest has suddenly begun to decay from the inside out," Kazumi hit another button that brought forth an array of images, all showing the eerie devastation of the forest's plant life. All of it had either rotted or turned to dust entirely. "We have found no explanation for this 'Blight' and have no way of stopping it. But one thing-"

"Why is this our problem?" The Divine Dragons Alliance envoy spoke up. "So what if the forest disappears? Is that worth calling this big dramatic meeting?"

Showing patience that staggered Bolo, Kazumi responded in an even tone, "That is not the only thing that's disappearing. It's just the most obvious indicator of what's really happening. Yesterday my scouts and I were surveying the area and discovered that a small NPC farm had lost its crops to the Blight. In the morning I interviewed the NPCs, who were as confused as I was as to what was going on. Given that they had just lost their food supply I promised to return with rations to tide them over until we could figure out a solution. When I came back that night however..." Another button press and another picture. This one was a photo of a small farm taken from a distance. Red-eyed goblins could be seen prowling in and around a burnt-out farmhouse. Not an NPC was in sight.

"But wait," Sasha said with a quiver in her voice, "I thought NPCs respawned after death? And the farmhouse... I've never heard of a monster affecting the environment like that."

Thinker leaned in and furrowed his brow at the pictures, "Sasha's right... And monsters only go into NPC areas if players lead them there. It's possible this happened, but the monsters wouldn't stay there for long. It's like..." Thinker clearly had a longer thought that he cut off, likely due to its audacity.

Bolo spoke up in place of him, "It's like the area's rules were rewritten."

The whole table looked at Bolo with an expression of "Who is this guy? Why is he here? What authority does he have to tell us what we're looking at?"

Realizing that he had violated one of the few rules Kazumi gave him Bolo shyly said, "Oh shit, sorry. I'm Bolo and... Well... Ya know what, go on everybody, don't let me interrupt."

"Nonono," the Divine Dragons Alliance envoy said hastily, "I wanna know what you think. You look stronger than basically everyone here. Besides me, of course. Besides, Kazumi wouldn't have invited you for no reason, right?"

Bolo looked up at Kazumi. Kazumi wanted control of the meeting but he knew that the people he was dealing with were irrational, hot-blooded, and in need of placating in order to progress things. Kazumi, brow tense with discomfort from having Bolo scrutinized, nodded his head in approval of the question. Bolo said, "That Blight stuff probably ain't gonna stop until it overtakes the entirety of the first floor. Best case scenario, our crops wither and the players down here will have to subside off of trade with the players up above, who will naturally have the upper hand in trade given they have more wealth to work with."

"Not a very equitable scenario..." Thinker mumbled.

"Right," Bolo said, "but that's not the worst case. The worst case scenario is... Well... Kazumi, it's why you called us here, isn't it? You explain it, I don't like talking as much as you."

Kazumi gave a tired smile that helped the room relax. Everyone had found it in themselves to shut up and finally listen and Kazumi could feel it. Kazumi took a breath and spoke, "The worst case scenario is that this Blight rewrites all the rules of all the areas on the first floor. If it can turn an NPC farm into a monster spawning pit then we have no idea how it will interact with the player-owned buildings. But my theory is that the Blight was a deliberate design choice to force people to climb the floors after a certain time limit. If it's meant to make the floor inhospitable then it will either turn off all PVP and PVE safeguards in the towns, or simply kill anyone who stays too long in the affected areas. Many areas between towns are already deadly PVP zones. There's no telling if the towns will be safe for long.

This is the reason I need help from each of the groups represented here. There are two thousand players living on the first floor that will need to be evacuated to the second floor, possibly even higher. It will be a logistical nightmare that will require transportation, organization, and enforcement of rules while players are moved through the newly-PVP-capable zones. We'll need Sasha and both the Grand Generals' cooperation to get the communities of the first floor moving. Then we'll need support from the Divine Dragons Alliance and the Knights of the Blood Oath to establish a pathway to the floor's exit."

"I don't mean to be 'that guy'," the Divine Dragons Alliance envoy said, sealing his fate as "that guy", "but why can't we just teleport them out?"

Ready for this exact question, Kazumi tossed a teleportation crystal to the envoy. He nodded to the young man and said, "Go ahead, try it."

The envoy sighed. It was such an elementary question that he had to ask it, but now he was being made a fool of for asking it. "Teleport: Home." Nothing happened.

"You all will have to leave the first floor on foot, by the way. You can teleport to the first floor from anywhere, but as of this morning the entire floor is an anti-teleportation zone. This further confirms the theory that the rules are being rewritten."

Thinker raised his hand and asked, "I understand our roles, Kazumi, and I believe I can lend my support," at this Kazumi gave a relieved nod. Thinker went on, "But why is this mercenary here? As you may remember, such contractors were not employed during my time as Grand General. I'd rather not have such unscrupulous individuals in my ranks. No personal offense intended, Bolo."

Bolo tilted his head, "How could that possibly not be personally offensive?"

Kazumi addressed Thinker, "Bolo is the most reliable mercenary I've ever worked with, Thinker. And given that mercenaries might be our trump card in this endeavor I'm inclined to disagree with your assessment of their qualities."

"Trump card how?" Kibaou's words were direct and brief. Bolo could see in his hunched shoulders and narrow eyes that, self-serving as the man was reputed to be, he was giving the situation serious thought.

Kazumi responded, "If word gets out that the first floor is being evacuated there will inevitably be profiteers. Maybe it'll be raiding guilds and bandit groups, maybe it'll be isolated looters clearing out formerly-safe player-owned properties. One way or another, eventually this evacuation will have to deal with people trying to capitalize off of it. And when that happens we're going to have to defend ourselves. Violently."

Bolo leaned back and breathed, "Wow, this is funny, Kaz..." his eyes shifted towards Kazumi, "How many people are represented at this table? A few hundred from the Knights, a few hundred more from the Divine Dragon people... The ALA has what? One thousand members? Most of them non-combatants, right?"

"I'm sure you're drifting towards a point soon, Mr. Mercenary?" The Knights of the Blood Oath envoy grumbled.

Bolo sighed heavily and looked the man in the eye. "Kaz here is saying that I might have killed more people than all your guilds put together."

The Knight stood up in a huff, "Are you sure that's something to be proud of, sir?!"

Bolo put his feet up on the table and responded, "You think I bother with pride, Mr. Knight? Please. I do what I'm good at. Don't act like you're any different."

"Of course we're different!" The Knight exclaimed, "This is why no one likes mercenaries like you! You're never more than a step away from being hired by the Laughing Coffins. Kazumi, who is to say this man won't betray you for someone who pays better?"

Kazumi looked between Bolo and the Knight. After careful consideration Kazumi responded, "Personal loyalty."

The Knight rolled his eyes. He wasn't the only one. With the exception of the Divine Dragons Alliance envoy Bolo could feel the whole room turn against his presence. He wasn't particularly bothered by this, of course. Bolo had known for a long time what people thought of mercenaries such as himself. More importantly though, he knew they were right: Most people willing to take jobs that involve the killing of other humans were as untrustworthy as the Knight described. If a person is deadly in personal combat and has little to no moral compunctions, can they even be trusted to control their impulses? Bolo believed himself not to be a sociopath, but he was aware that he frequently presented himself as such. And at times he wondered how much difference that made.

Thinker spoke first among the group, "As you might be able to tell, Kazumi, we are not completely convinced."

Kazumi replied quickly, "The time for deliberation is quickly ending, everyone. Unless any of your guilds are interested in providing specifically anti-personnel fighters, I suggest you get used to the presence of mercenaries in our ragtag company. So, who here can vouch for their guild's joining?"

"My church will, of course, take part in the evacuation. Not that we have much of a choice."

Bolo smiled and said "You have more choice than you know. With no political obligations or strict duties binding you to the people you take care of, there's nothing stopping you from leaving this meeting right now and making a break for the second floor. It would leave your people to fend for themselves, but you could easily secure your own safety and disappear into anonymity if you wanted to."

After a pause as the table processed Bolo's words Sasha responded, "Well I don't think of it that way."

Thinker leaned in towards Bolo, "Okay, I have to address this right now. That's exactly the kind of thinking that makes me not want to work with you, Bolo. Do you know how insane you sound talking like that? How can we trust you if your mindset is always fixated on self-serving survival?"

The Divine Dragon Alliance envoy raised his voice before Bolo could, "Chill out, Thinker. Don't act like you've spent your whole life in service of others. You're just like the rest of us: Buddying up is a method of survival. How long would you stay in your guild if you thought it would kill you?"

Thinker stood up at this provocation, "How absurd! With everything your guild has accomplished you still don't believe there are things worth dying for?"

Bolo stood up as well, "Oh please! I've met the people in your army who actually do the dying. You're not them, Thinker. And you'll never be them!"

Thinker's head turned towards Kazumi, eyes full of hate, "Kazumi, I cannot stand for this. Perhaps I could put politics aside and work with Kibaou, but I will absolutely not work with a barbarian who is one step above a serial killer or anyone of his kind."

"I will commit troops," Kibaou spoke suddenly, as though he had just come to this conclusion. He stared daggers at Thinker and said, "it'll show the people of the first floor who is really looking out for them."

Thinker looked between Kibaou and Kazumi and waited for Kazumi to step in and arbitrate. When he did nothing but give him and expectant look, Thinker came to a decision of his own. Without another word Thinker left the round table and departed the meeting.

After a long silence to absorb the passing of hundreds of useful troops out of Kazumi's grasp, the Knights of the Blood Oath envoy raised his hand. "My apologies, Kazumi," the moment the Knight started speaking Kazumi closed his eyes in preparation for another blow, "but my guild cannot spare anyone from the front lines. It would require us to completely re-organize our logistics for weeks, if not months. It's just not possible right now."

Kazumi sighed, "I understand. I hope you'll understand if I ask you to keep this meeting a secret?"

"Of course."

"Thank you. And what about the Divine Dragon Alliance? Will they come to the aid of innocent people?"

All eyes went from one side of the table to the other, focusing on the envoy. He sputtered slightly, just as aware that the true answer was "no" as everyone else was. He ran his fingers through his hair and said, "Listen, Kazumi, I want to help. Personally, I very much want to help. And I'm going to try and convince my guild's leadership... But I'm in the same boat as the Knights of the Blood Oath guy here. But I'll try. Honestly."

The Divine Dragon Alliance envoy and Knights of the Blood Oath envoy both took their shameful leave. Sasha and Kibaou extended pleasantries and made plans, all of which Kazumi reciprocated as if on auto-pilot, then left as well.

Bolo stayed. He sat beside Kazumi and waited for a long while. It was a silence shared between them before, when either or both of them is waiting to decide whether they want to speak their feelings, or leave them unsaid. Bolo was familiar enough with Kazumi however to know that Kazumi would always choose to recognize and speak about his failures.

"I wonder what they think of me." Kazumi spoke this aloud after everyone but Bolo and himself had left.

Bolo sat up on the round table and asked, "What do you mean?"

Kazumi responded with a sigh that seemed to deflate his whole body. He sunk into his chair and ran a hand through his long hair. Bolo felt the gesture looked oddly childish (and completely out of place) for Kazumi. When Kazumi turned his eyes up to Bolo it seemed like the man aged ten years in a single moment. His eyes were heavy with tired bags under them and all the forceful certainty he had in his jaw and his brow drooped down under the weight of fatigue. Kazumi said, "I was always a bit... Emotionally reserved growing up. When I was excited I didn't show it. When I liked someone I generally didn't say it. My parents never worried about it. They were the same way. But people at school sometimes did. They'd call me a robot. Or say I had no emotions. But that's not true... Why do I need to say the words 'I like you' for someone to know that? I've never felt comfortable saying things like that, much less asking people to say such things. To me, what a person is willing to say is far less important than what I'm willing to believe.

I have worked for the Aincrad Liberation Army for a long time. I've always considered its goals inseparable from my own: To free everyone from this hell. No one here deserves to die. No one deserves to be abandoned. But this council I assembled... Do they feel the same way? I've never been so unsure of people's feelings before. Do they actually want to save anyone? Or are they just scheming on political power?"

Kazumi sounded ready to go on asking questions until the sun fell out of the sky, but he stopped himself. He sat in his chair for a while, perhaps waiting for Bolo to respond, perhaps trying to decide if he could afford to sleep. Bolo let the silence sit for a bit; he didn't want to rush into a response and make Kazumi's uncertainty worse. When he felt that Kazumi was really, truly about to fall asleep right there, he finally decided that it was time to reassure his friend; it was unseemly to Bolo to imagine Kazumi falling asleep to worried thoughts and waking up to find that his friend had left him in the night.

"It doesn't matter what they want." Bolo said. These words made Kazumi perk up. Bolo went on, "These people, these high-strung 'moral' types, they're so tied up in obligations and duties that they can't tell where they end and their ambitions begin. None of them would die if they didn't place themselves above others. But if you tell them they don't 'need' to run an army, I'm sure they'd rather die than give up their power. People with as much influence as them have forgotten where the line is between their needs and their desires. So use their vanity. Exploit it. If you want to save a single soul down here, you'll have to."

A small spark of life glowed in Kazumi's eyes. Kazumi looked up at Bolo and said, "Everything you said to Sasha applies to you too. You don't have to be here. More than anyone at this meeting you could've left. Why'd you stay?"

Bolo huffed out a disbelieving laugh at the question. "Because we're friends. You don't ever say why we're friends, and I never ask, but I think it's because of times like this... When my ruthlessness intersects with your altruism. It feels good. Like I don't have to think at all, I just have to take the field, draw my sword, and put my ugly, violent skills to use."


	3. Chapter 3: Carly, the Knight

Only two weeks had passed since Carly departed the first floor in Alan's arms, yet on returning she found that it had completely transformed. As soon as the population at large noticed the changes to the floor's environment there was a mass exodus of those who were confident they could make their own way through the Blight-stricken areas to get to the exit. Even as many such players escaped, a combination of PVP predators and Blight-enhanced monsters proved some of them wrong, and a panic soon set in among the populace. The entire population congregated into the Town of Beginnings, where one Colonel Kazumi of the Aincrad Liberation Army made a name for himself by organizing his battalion to fortify the city's walls. Several player-killing bandit guilds made extremely public threats against the population of the first floor. They said so in so many words, but all their demands were the same: "Leave your possessions or die." Colonel Kazumi's response was heard and celebrated across all of Aincrad: The ALA would not abandon the people.

But it was not the renowned Colonel Kazumi that motivated Carly to venture back down to the first floor. Rather, she wanted to meet Kazumi's right hand man.

A guard at the Town of Beginnings' gate directed Carly to the ALA barracks. A guard there directed her to an under-construction outpost between the Town and the floor exit. Finally, the outpost commandant informed her that Captain Bolo of the ALA Provisional Militia was training his newest recruits in the nearby fields.

Bolo sat atop a hill with his back against his sword, which was driven into the ground. All around him were rolling green hills, and above him an open blue sky: The tell tale signs of a tranquil, low-level area. He presided over the makeshift training ground: A moor about three hundred square yards where the Blight hadn't reached, populated by low-level monsters and the young men and women who volunteered to aid in the evacuation effort. Bolo's job was to train these recruits, but he was hardly knowledgeable in the art of instruction, particularly of subjects so young. He learned how to fight through repetitive exposure to violent situations; he couldn't bring himself to imagine any other way of learning. So there he sat, silent and armed with a hand crossbow for one-shotting any monsters that threatened to kill a recruit, feeling utterly ineffective at his job.

Until over the hill came Carly.

The young lady rode on horseback but was in no rush. She strode slowly through the moor, smiling playfully to all the lower-level players having their first taste of combat. If not for that "warrior pride" Bolo might not have recognized her, for unlike the last time he saw her she wore the plated armor of a front-line fighter. Mid-day had come, and the sun gleamed excitedly off every surface of Carly's armor; Bolo knew her to speak a bit energetically, but he hadn't expected her to dress the part of a shining knight. She rode upon Bolo's little hill and nodded down at him. "Hey there, 'captain'."

"Hey yourself," Bolo said, "figured I wouldn't see you again."

Carly dismounted and tied her horse off on the hilt of Bolo's sword. She sat down perpendicular to him and said, "Well I heard that some damn fool Colonel in the ALA was executing a hopeless plan to evacuate all two thousand of the doomed level-ones on the first floor."

"And you figured it was me?" Bolo raised an eyebrow at the young knight.

"Ha! No. I figured the mercenary captain he hired to organize a militia and fight for him was you."

"You were right." Bolo shot a glance over to his recruits. None of them were near death or making fools of themselves, so he relaxed.

"You look like you're having zero fun."

"Ehh," Bolo twitched his finger and fired off a bolt at one of his recruit's monster opponent. The beast was felled instantly, causing the recruit to pop up in surprise. Bolo gave the recruit a wave and said to Carly, "I wanted to help out a friend. I forgot that do-gooding is horribly boring. Why are you here, anyways?"

Carly snorted, "You might not have picked up on this when we first met, but I'm actually part of the Divine Dragon Alliance," Carly said with a proud smile and a puff of her chest, "The whole guild is in an uproar over this situation. Half of us want to come down and fight, the rest don't think it's worth our time.

"Mm. What do you think?" Bolo asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm here to join the fight." Cally said plainly.

Bolo stopped reloading his crossbow and looked up at her. "Yeah?"

Carly nodded. Bolo's eyes shifted downwards. He began to think and Carly quickly surmised that he was opposed to the idea. "What is it?" she demanded.

Bolo answered her question with a question, "Why would you want to come down here and fight, huh?"

Carly scrunched her face. Bolo suppressed a smile; the image of this young lady's scrunched face on top of her heavy armor was a bit hard to take seriously. At the same time though Bolo figured that, being a sixteen year old girl in a world dominated by violent men, she was likely constantly fighting against that precise hard-to-take-seriously image. Bolo kept his face cool and stoic as Carly leaned closer, asserting, "Yeah, that's exactly what I intend to do. You didn't strike me as the kind of person to try and stop me."

Bolo spoke back to her in a frigid tone, "Well I am. You're a child, Carly. You might be a skilled child, and you probably have faced death before, but you're still a child. I'm not going to endanger you if I can help it."

Carly shook her head in disbelief, "Where is this coming from? How young were the guys that were holding me hostage? You killed them, didn't you?"

"None of them were as young as you." Bolo's response was swift and confident. He was prepared for criticism such as that. "And besides, this isn't the usual death-game bullshit you're dealing with clearing floor after floor, okay? This is people trying to kill people. Now at this point in my life I don't have any strong feelings one way or the other about being in such situations. But I don't want a kid like you having to experience what it's like to have someone else trying to kill them."

Bolo's voice was so full of confidence that only after Carly's expression softened did he realize he had taken too strong of a stance. Carly said, "You're so full of shit, Bolo." She stood and paced towards her horse, unhitching it. Her shoulders were tense with frustration and unspoken retorts. Bolo felt his stomach curl in nervousness, a sensation he hated for the weakness it betrayed, as he waited for Carly to explain herself. She seemed content to have that be the last word, at least until her frustration overtook her and she whipped around to add, "If you don't feel anything when people are trying to kill you, then how do you know how it feels to have people trying to kill you?"

Bolo was taken aback. "I-"

"If you were half the sociopath you present yourself as," Carly went on, "it wouldn't even occur to you that getting in fights was scary. In fact, you wouldn't even be on the side of the evacuation effort! It's safer and more profitable to pray on people than protect them. So why would you come down here and fight?!" Now her voice was raised and accusatory. Beyond the pair at the top of the hill, all the recruits had defeated their respective monster opponents and had turned to watch a beautiful, armor-clad stranger accost their captain. Through the silence came the hushed tone of rustling grass as it was tickled by the wind, which rushed up the hill to hear Bolo's answer.

Bolo finally said, "What am I, a psychologist? What do I know about why I'm here? Here, there, or anywhere, I am where I am. I do what I've always done. When I imagine a life without fighting, without facing the fear of death, it's like imagining a life where I'm too afraid to run too fast, or too afraid to kiss who I want to kiss. It'd be paralysis. Maybe I do feel that fear. But just because I go out and do these ugly things, that doesn't make it right for you to do the same things."

After a long pause Carly concluded that Bolo was done explaining himself. She jumped up on her horse and spat, "'Do as I say, not as I do'. God, you're such an adult."

As her horse began to trot away Bolo grumbled, "I suppose this is the last time I'll be seeing you."

Carly briefly turned her head towards him, making eye contact for only a moment. It was all he needed to understand that her response was completely honest: "Nope!"

-

The ALA headquarters was both totally understaffed and completely overworked that day, what with all the people demanding specific help with moving their worldly possessions out of the Town, as well as the many civil complaints being filed in the wake of the ever-present threat of PVP-safe-zones going away. Due to this Carly found it easy to secure entry all the way to exactly where she wanted to go by way of a simple lie: "I have a strategic meeting with Colonel Kazumi."

When she found Colonel Kazumi he was in his office and in the midst of a heated argument with a stout, rounded-off man that looked younger than him. Carly stood outside the office door and listened as Kazumi said, "General Kibaou, our force is larger than the militia, but less experienced than the mercenary army. We should place our troops here, as the caravan's mid-guard. We're the most capable of responding to a flanking attack, and-"

This "General" interrupted with very little effort put into his words. Carly immediately recognized his posture as that of a man who took his authority for granted. Kibaou said, "Kazumi, there is no reason we should place undue risk on our troops. Put them in the rear guard, as I originally ordered, and move the militia to the vanguard."

Kazumi raised his voice, "The militia won't last a second in the vanguard and you know it! What is the point in recruiting these people from the populace if we're just going to throw them away?!"

"The point," Kibaou jabbed a finger into Kazumi's desk, "is to serve as a buffer against ALA losses. You know it, I know it, they should know it. How long has the ALA served the people of the first floor? Do they expect that service to be free?"

"What the fu-" Before Kazumi could fully express his outrage, Carly knocked gently on the door. "What?!" Kazumi shouted.

Carly opened the door with a sly smile. "Hey there," she said, "I'm from the Divine Dragon Alliance. I hear you two are in need of some spare soldiers."

-

A week passed, and the day of the evacuation arrived.

Over the course of the day an overcast sky had blocked out every beam of sunlight from the first floor. By the time noon came all the land had been covered in darkness. This compounded the conditions on the ground; each day of the last week was worst than the last, as the Blight spread faster and faster, wiping out trees, animals, and eventually even the grass. All that was left of the landscape was rolling, ashen hills and lifeless fields. The thick, sinister clouds that rolled over the horizon seemed as a curtain being draped over the final act of a play. But the actors hadn't left the stage yet.

From horseback Bolo could see the entire main street of the Town of Beginnings, as well as the top of every head of all two-thousand-two-hundred-and-fifty people that packed into it. Among that number were the one-thousand-eight-hundred civilians that had to be evacuated, as well as the one hundred militia members Bolo had spent the week training, two hundred members of the Aincrad Liberation Army, and fifty hired mercenaries. Kazumi had made a big deal of positioning the militia in the rear-guard- it was contrary to what both the ALA and the mercenaries had been instructed by the Grand General himself, but when it came time to decide between following the absentee Grand General and Colonel Kazumi, who lead them from the front, the ALA followed the orders of Kazumi and took the position of mid-guard. This did, however, put Bolo into a predicament.

"If I'm in the vanguard with the mercenaries, how am I supposed to command the militia in the rear-guard?" Bolo asked.

Kazumi had been staring off at the front gate of the Town of Beginnings since the caravan took formation, and even before then he had been glancing at it off to the side all day. Kazumi was too worried to show to outwardly, but there was a smile in his eyes as he said, "You'll see. They should be here any minute now."

The carriages were loaded. The troops were assembled. Everyone was itching to leave, more scared to stay than to go at this point. The dark gray afternoon was already wearing on people's psychologies as the people of the Town all began to think together: "It's really happening. We're going to be trotted through unsafe territory. We were never as safe as we thought we were. At any time the thing protecting us could disappear. Is this grey, miserable day the last day of my life?"

Suddenly the gates flung open. Trumpets blared. Silver-clad knights unfurled long, navy-blue banners bearing the golden insignia of the Divine Dragon Alliance. At the front of their formation, one hundred knights strong, was Carly, golden-haired and smiling proudly as her company made its entrance. The people's heads lifted and craned to catch a glimpse of the knights- "It's that guild! The ones that are always on the upper floors! Don't they mostly hunt for rare items? What are they doing here? Maybe they're not so bad after all..."

Carly rode directly up to Bolo. Her troops knew where to go, who to talk to, and how to position themselves: Carly and the Divine Dragon Alliance would ride in the rear-guard, shielding the militia from the worst of the fighting and protecting the people against pursuers. Kazumi and the ALA would take up the mid-guard to defend the flanks, and to reinforce anyone who needed it. All while Bolo commanded the vanguard, taking decisive action against anyone who sought to impede the caravan. Carly smiled at Bolo, then announced to the crowd:

"A week ago a call for help was heard from a deep and distant place in Aincrad. The Divine Dragon Alliance is here to answer that call."

The caravan cheered. The clouds didn't part and the grass didn't grow back, but all the same the day seemed a little brighter to the people of the Town. Bolo sighed. He offered her resistance earlier, and he could not deny that Carly had responded with superior force. It was a fight, and she won it, and for that he had to have respect. Bolo hid a smile. That smile was all that kept his tongue in check though; he still believed she was too young to be there. He still believed that neither Carly, nor anyone else in the caravan, truly knew what they'd be dealing with outside the safety of the Town.

As Carly waved and basked in the adoration her presence inspired, a terrible noise assailed the senses of every person on the first floor. It was the sharp ping of a notification, followed by a message that teased one's peripheral vision: "YOU HAVE ENTERED AN OPEN PVP AREA." Kazumi's prediction had come true. Even within the Town's walls, the final protective rule had been rewritten. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief that they had gathered into the caravan. Before they could take another breath of anxious despair, Kazumi whipped his horse's reigns and shouted,

"Captain Carly, Captain Bolo, take your positions and prepare to mobilize. We're moving out!"


	4. Chapter 4: Killing Intent

As soon as it left the Town of Beginnings the caravan turned off the beaten path and began navigating a winding path through narrow, windswept hillsides. The townspeople who had never left the Town's walls were none the wiser that this was a strange path to take, but Bolo and Carly noticed immediately, even as they rode on opposite ends of the caravan. As soon as they made camp after one day of constant travel the militiamen and a few ALA privates wanted to erect Kazumi a command tent, but he denied this luxury. "We need to keep moving to try and get to the floor exit as soon as possible," he said, "and spending ten minutes to set up and tear down a tent every time we make camp is time we won't get back."

As such the first strategic meeting of the expedition was held between Captain Bolo, Captain Carly, and Colonel Kazumi... Over a campfire.

"Ask him." Carly said to Bolo.

"No." Bolo responded flatly. "I don't need to ask him. I trust him."

"It'll be weird if I ask him!" said the girl, her armor clanking awkwardly together as she tried to fold her arms in full plate. Kazumi sitting on his knees and heating tea over the fire, waiting for the pair to settle whatever dispute they were having. Bolo laid on his side to expose as much of his body to the fire as possible (the constant clouds made for dark days and cold nights). Carly sat in the discomfort of her armor, mostly to keep anyone from seeing her as possessing the diminutive stature she found to be unbecoming of a martial authority. "Kazumi, can I ask you something?"

"You're wondering why we're taking a long, twisting path through the hills when the quickest path to the floor exit is through the plains, right?"

Carly tilted her head. His guess was too good, so Carly quickly mounted a counter-offensive to take him down a peg. "No, I was actually going to ask if you and Bolo were dating."

Bolo smiled. Kazumi chuckled. Carly fumed that this upset neither of them. "Bolo's not my type." Kazumi said as if he'd answered the question before.

"Although Kazumi is totally mine." Bolo said, then blew a kiss in Kazumi's direction.

Carly gave such an exasperated sigh that it nearly blew out the fire. After recomposing herself she finally blurted the question: "Why are we taking a long, twisting path through the hills?"

Kazumi spoke as he poured three cups of tea, his words so rehearsed that Carly could tell he had been thinking about it for days, "When one goes into battle, one must consider what is valuable on the battlefield." Carly made a face at the fact that Kazumi was about to lecture her on strategy. A watchful eye from Bolo convinced her not to interrupt Kazumi just yet though. Kazumi went on, "We're not trying to destroy an enemy or secure territory. We have no way of hiding a caravan this big. Nor can we make it move any faster than it goes. In addition to that, if we suffer a direct attack the losses would be devastating, even if we repelled the attack. Imagine if we had none of these limitations. We could lure our enemy out into a decisive battle that made it impossible for them to effectively hinder us. But with these limitations... We have to avoid battle at all cost. That means making our position in assailable, even if it triples the length of our journey."

Carly found herself at some points nodding along, while at other points her contrarian nature made her want to speak up in opposition just for the sake of it. But no speaking up ever came, as she had no experience to pull from that was as deep as Kazumi's. However, there was one question that came upon her so suddenly that it frightened her to have only thought of it then. "Waitwaitwait, what enemy?"

Bolo raised his eyebrow, "You haven't noticed them?"

Carly's gaze shot to him. She had been ever-watchful for criticism ever since he denied her entrance into the militia.

Bolo tossed her his spyglass and said, "Look at the valley beneath the hill, in the direction we came. There are also patrols heading towards where we're going."

Carly snatched the spyglass out of the air and did just that. What she found made her jump: There was a man in black robes and a wooden mask gesturing towards other similarly-dressed men. Even through the mask Carly could see the man's eyes glowing with the "sensor" skill. Most alarmingly though, the man turned his head and, over what had to be more than ten miles away, looked right into Carly's eyes. The sensation of his eyes meeting hers sent that "lightning bolt" feeling of anxiety through Carly's skull once more. A shiver ran through her and her mouth suddenly went dry. She dropped the spyglass and found she couldn't stop shaking.

Bolo took notice and said softly, "I take it you saw him?"

Carly didn't want to admit what she was feeling as she felt that doing so would admit weakness. Attempting to go on speaking normally she sputtered, "I-I-Is that their-their leader?"

"Indeed," Bolo said, "you looked into his eyes, didn't you?"

Carly fumed internally. "W-w-why? Why is my body shaking?"

A hand came to rest on Carly's shoulder. She jumped and took in a breath of fear before realizing it was Bolo's hand. "You're experiencing something you've never experienced before, even from those kidnappers. I bet you've risked your life countless times by now, right?"

"Of course!" Carly spat back, gaining control over her nerves again.

"Well this is different. When I fought your kidnappers I got the impression from them that they grew up with comfortable lives. They probably only killed one or two people. Unlike the group that's pursuing us, I didn't get the impression those kidnappers had very much killing intent."

"Killing intent?" Carly asked.

"Yes. I'm sure there's a more scientific explanation for it, but to me it's always been an intuition... A 'seeing-without-seeing' sort of thing. It's exactly what it sounds like: A combination of tiny body language cues that indicates to another person that you intend to hurt them. The more a person hurts other people, the easier hurting people becomes, and therefore the stronger their killing intent. You, me, Kazumi, anyone can perceive it, but no one can project it unless they're really ready to hurt someone."

"And seeing someone's killing intent..." Carly held out her hands, which were still trembling, "...Does this to someone?"

Bolo shrugged and took his hand off of Carly's shoulder. He held out both of his hands between them. His right hand was as still as a rock while his left hand shook worse than Carly's, "Yes. But you can deal with it. You'll have to. Remember: These people are going to try and kill you. Indulge in your fear now, or do it later, but once it comes time to fight, be ready to seize control of yourself."

Bolo let out a breath and emptied his mind. He cast his gaze out into the direction of their pursuers. There was no way he could actually "see" them, but he knew they were there. He imagined them charging at him, bearing down on him with blades drawn and eyes glowing with hateful greed. He imagined them slaughtering the men, taking the women and children, and burning all sentimental possessions in the caravan's care. He imagined Carly reliving whatever hell she experienced in the months she was kidnapped, and he imagined Kazumi being made an example of for trying to defy the laws of nature these bandits followed. His body was racked with anxiety and tension as these thoughts played out with perfect clarity in his head, as though they were memories from the future. And once all these thoughts passed through him, Bolo was empty. He grew numb and his muscles relaxed. There was nothing left of himself; there was the protective instinct, but no memory of the beautiful things he wished to protect. There was the wrathful desire to cut, conquer, and kill his enemies, but with no restraint against the ugly consequences of such actions.

And Carly watched as Bolo's hand became still.

Before sunrise the next morning the caravan was already getting ready to move again. Carly, Kazumi, and Bolo had all fallen asleep around the campfire. Kazumi woke first and got Carly up and moving, but Carly was surprised to find Bolo was still asleep. She tilted her head towards him and said to Kazumi, "Shouldn't we, uh... Wake Captain Bolo?" It took Carly a moment to process, but eventually she decided that Bolo looked strange when he slept. His brow wasn't furrowed while he was unconscious, and seeing his face so unperturbed gave her the feeling like she was seeing her dad without his glasses on.

"Hm," Kazumi made a noise from over Carly's shoulder. "Bolo was supposed to be on first patrol today."

Carly shrugged, "He never struck me as the type to sleep in. But don't worry, I got this. Yo, Bolo!" Carly nudged Bolo with her armored toe. "Wake the fuck up you old ass bitch. You're on patrol today."

Bolo stirred and the seriousness returned to his brow. He grumbled, "Make Andrew do it."

"Who?" Carly asked.

Suddenly Kazumi grabbed Carly by the arm and tugged her away from Bolo. It wasn't many steps before Carly realized that he wasn't taking her in any particular direction- just away from Bolo. When they were by the horses' hitches Kazumi sighed and said, "Would you mind taking Bolo's patrol this morning?"

Carly's eyes narrowed. "Okayyyyyy," she said, "But only if you tell me who Andrew is."

Kazumi gave her a "am I really being extorted by a teenager this early in the morning" look, then flatly said, "No." He unhitched Carly's horse and handed her the hitch. With great disappointment Carly took it... Only to find Kazumi had not let go of it. "Listen," Kazumi said to her, "I've heard Bolo mention an 'Andrew' before. I asked who Andrew was. It's not that I won't tell you. It's that I can't. Because Bolo told me to never ask him that question again."

-

The Divine Dragon Alliance was not a guild that asked its members to go on many "patrols". The Aincrad Liberation Army certainly was- they ran a circuit of patrolling at least one floor's wilderness areas per day, in order to save any players that might find themselves in danger. Carly's unit was a group of fifteen Divine Dragon Alliance members though, and every single one of them were as bored as she was. In the dim overcast the trail seemed to blur together with the hills around it. Everything took on an indistinct shape, and the visual noise made it hard to be alert to any threat that might be lurking there.

Still, Carly could not forget the feeling of her pursuer's killing intent, so she pulled the reins on her horse and halted her group in place. "Something wrong, ma'am?" One of her subordinates asked quickly.

"No, not yet. But gimme a minute." Carly dismounted her horse and went to the sheer face of the nearest hill. She began to paw up the side of it, finding handholds and footholds that were at least large enough for her to carve her gauntlets and greaves into. "What is valuable on the battlefield..." Carly echoed Kazumi's words from the previous night. She considered that the most advantageous element of the hills was the difficulty of launching a large attack from any direction except further along or further back on the main trail. The hills were too steep and rocky to be easily crested and charged down. Attacks could only come from two directions, and even then the trails weren't large enough to allow a large force to pass through all at once, meaning that whatever numbers advantage the attacking force had would be made essentially meaningless.

"However," Carly grumbled to herself as she pulled her fully-armored form onto the top of the hill with great effort, "All this assumes that the attackers are smart enough to know that charging down these hills is a reckless idea. If the attackers aren't that smart, or if they lack the self-preservation to care, they'll flank us anyways. It doesn't matter that they die immediately if they can kill a single person; if the enemy outnumbers us then trading troops one-for-one works out to their advantage."

From higher up the shadows cast by the hills deepened and the ground articulated itself more clearly. Trudging along the trail under the cloudy sky made Carly feel like her vision had blurred, but now she could see clearly. And just as she predicted she found them: Dark forms gathering on a hilltop. They were miles away and shifting about at an odd angle that would make them hard to spot from anywhere below the hill, but from her vantage point she could see them clearly. Carly jumped down from her perch and said, "Enemy spotted. Someone get word back to Captain Bolo and Colonel Kazumi that I'm heading to engage."

Two messengers went back to the caravan while Carly and her thirteen riders rode on down the trail. Every so often Carly would dismount, climb a hill, and reconfirm the ambushers' location. She was excited; it was her first battle against real people. "Win this," she thought, "and neither Bolo nor anyone else can doubt my combat ability again. Hell, I won't even be able to doubt my own combat ability anymore." With every step they took Carly pondered the optimal way of engaging the enemy: "Do I sneak over the hill they're using as cover? Do we fire arrows at them from a nearby hill and harass them away? Do we want to engage safely, or decisively?" Carly set out to engage the enemy expecting inspiration to come to her on the trot over, but the closer they got to the enemy the more she worried. "Oh God," she began to think, "I really have no idea what I'm doing. I only spotted those guys because I remembered what Kazumi was saying... Oh God, maybe I should regroup with Bolo and Kazumi before engaging. It doesn't matter if my personal combat ability is amazing if my squad gets killed on the side of a hill trying to-"

Carly's frustrated worrying suddenly ceased when an arrow slammed into her chest, penetrating her armor and piercing her skin.

"Captain!" One of Carly's squad-mates yelped at Carly fell from her horse and slammed onto the ground. As always there was no pain to the wound, but the sight of an arrow protruding from her abdomen was so shocking to Carly that she froze up, unable to even scream. No, that wasn't it... Her eyes went up to her health bar and saw that she was under a "paralysis" effect. She tried to call out to her squad to run, but her mouth, jaw, and throat had all already seized up.

It was not a careless hail of arrows that brought her squad down; Carly's eyes darted around as an arrow struck each squad member with a precise shot right to the chest. The projectiles were fast, hit hard, and bore the length of a longbow arrow- the kind used precisely for penetrating the armor of knights over long distances. One by one her squad-mates hit the ground just as she did. There was a moment when everyone was rolling on the dirt as their horses abandoned them, until the paralysis poison set in and they froze on the ground, helpless.

Carly's heart pounded. "Not again," she thought, "I can't get captured again! Not again!" She took comfort in the possibility that she would likely be killed this time rather than captured, starved, and tortured under threat of rape for months. And then after all these thoughts passed through her head... Nothing happened. Carly's eyes darted around in search of the attackers, expecting to see some imposing, darkly-armored figure to walk into her line of vision in order to deliver a finishing blow to her, possibly after uttering some line hinting at his identity, backstory, or warped social Darwinist philosophy. But nobody came. And after a while Carly realized that nobody was ever coming... Except Bolo and Kazumi.

"That girl is going to charge in without us, I know it." Bolo grunted. Kazumi and him rode together with a force of sixty men at their backs. "I should've just let her into the militia. Then maybe she wouldn't be hunting danger looking to make a point."

Kazumi knew that none of Bolo's bluster meant much; he was less upset that Carly might get into trouble and more upset that she would do so on his patrol that she took because he was sleeping in. But Kazumi wasn't thinking about that. He was thinking about what the scouts reported Carly had found. "There are many ways to set a trap," Kazumi explained, "and this kind of glaring tactical error is definitely one of them. Though it's hard to tell the difference between an intentional tactical error and an unintentional one..."

Bolo looked over and watched the gears turn in Kazumi's head. "You think they baited Carly into charging a position that was much more entrenched than she realized?"

"Almost certainly," Kazumi said, "but that's not all. It's not a trap I would fall for... Do you think it's a trap you would fall for?"

"I hate to admit it, but yeah. If I thought I could get the drop on some ambushers, I would charge in as eagerly as Carly probably did."

"I see," Kazumi said, "then it's likely a trap laid for you. But consider the chain of events that is currently transpiring: The moment we heard Carly was engaging the enemy, we road out to support her. I would do the same thing if it were you who was engaging the enemy... Perhaps inside this trap is another trap: One meant for me."

"Mm. Maybe you should go back to the caravan then. Either of us can die, but if both of us die then the caravan is pretty fucked."

"No." Kazumi said sternly. His forehead was scrunched and his head was low. Bolo could tell every one of his tactical neurons were firing on overdrive. "If there is a trap, it was a trap designed to catch you, then use you to lure me into a losing fight. If just you go into that fight, you'll likely die just as quickly as I would. We should both go, of that I'm sure. But we won't just walk into it. We'll be ready. I have an idea."

"What if it's not a trap?" Bolo asked, "Then we'll both feel pretty stupid I guess."

"No, that's worth considering. If we treat everything like a trap when it isn't, then we end up spreading our forces too thin and leave the caravan exposed. We can't overreact and treat this like a winner-take-all battle. We'll go with the forces we have. But... There'll be losses."

Bolo looked over his shoulder at the sixty men following them. They were all ALA veterans- not as valuable in battle as the mercenaries, but their losses wouldn't be as devastating to morale as the militia's would be. Still, Bolo was amazed Kazumi was comfortable with the idea of losing them.

When he looked at his friend though, Bolo realized that Kazumi wasn't comfortable at all. His shoulders were hunched, and while he had come to a sound conclusion that seemed to assure their victory, his brow had not relaxed. Knowing the outcome of the coming battle did nothing to soothe Kazumi of the predicted consequences of the coming battle. It was for this that Bolo was glad to be a mercenary. He wasn't a wise strategist or a father to his men... If he was asked to be either he felt he would shirk his responsibilities at the first opportunity. It made him feel small in the presence of Kazumi, as Kazumi was clearly weighed down by the burdens of command, but did not pass these burdens off to anybody else.

Which is why Bolo was thrilled when Kazumi said, "Bolo, I have a favor to ask of you. You can refuse if you'd like, but I think only you can do it."

"Name it." Bolo said.

"One thing that jumps out to me about this scenario is that it's not the way a death cult like Laughing Coffin would do things. If it is what I think it is, it requires centralized and decisive organization. Essentially, there is one mind behind the plan, and no one is arguing with him. This hypothetical 'Mastermind' is more deadly for this, but it's also their weakness: If we kill the Mastermind a large portion of our opposition will fall into discord."

"So my job is to kill the Mastermind. Got it."

"Precisely."

"But what if they send someone to kill our Mastermind? What if they go straight for you?"

Bolo saw Kazumi reel slightly from this question. It was rather obvious in retrospect, but he hadn't considered it as he simply didn't imagine himself as that valuable. Without asking, and without Bolo saying another word, Kazumi deduced why Bolo brought this up: It's what he would do if he were on the opposing side. "I'll retreat if it comes to that," Kazumi said, "I don't want to run... But I don't want to lose either."


	5. Chapter 5: Paper Wings

Kazumi, Bolo, and their squad of sixty men crept along the hillside trail as quietly as they could for sixty armored men on horseback. Inevitably they were noticed; first it was a scout, clad in back cloth, a hundred yards off from them. Then it was a group of scouts. Soon a dozen watchful eyes peered down on them from every craggy hilltop. Each time it took only a pair of armored riders turning their way to scare the scouts off, but this did not set Kazumi's mind at rest. "How many are there?" Kazumi wondered, "What bandit or player-killer guild has this many members?"

Where the hills were mountainous teeth brushing up against the gloom of the sky Kazumi's company halted. The trail was blocked by fourteen dead horses piled on top of each other, but that is not why they stopped. The trail fed into a circular, arena-like clearing, and likely contained a boss monster or unique encounter back when the first floor operated on normal rules. A dozen sharply-angled peaks at least fifty feet high surrounded this arena, and on each peak stood at least a dozen black-clothed figures armed with shortbows. All of them had arrows knocked, but not yet drawn. They had not turned hostile on Kazumi or the thirty men he had with him. Each of those thirty men carried with him two things: A tower shield on their back, and an additional horse hitched to their own horse. It was all so in-plain-sight that Kazumi had to smile. He drew a crossbow from his back and loaded it with a very special bolt. He figured that if the enemy wasn't aware of his plan by the time he arrived at this arena, then his plan had already succeeded.

Near the trail on the opposite side of the arena a voice called out to Kazumi. Kazumi could tell from the authoritative posture of the speaker that this was the Mastermind he had hypothesized. He was a tall man with a slender build wearing a pitch black tunic well-fitted to his body. His face was covered by a white porcelain mask carved to look featureless, save for an inky black crescent moon painted on its face. The mask granted a stony cadence on the Mastermind's articulate voice as he called out, "Stop right there please! Wellwellwell, I was not expecting Colonel Kazumi himself to grace us with his presence. I figured that brutish fellow would be here... It's fortunate he's not though. I didn't want to have to hurt anyone else before you and I got a chance to talk to you."

It was then that Kazumi noticed that each group on each peak had at least one hostage. Kazumi understood the predicament immediately: In order to save all of them, they'd have to engage the whole force. If they wanted to save any of them, they'd have to make a judgment call of who was more valuable than who. And naturally the Mastermind wore Carly as his shield.

Kazumi shouted back, "And what were you wanting to talk about, Mr...?"

"Nocturne," the Mastermind said, "call me Nocturne. And I wanted to speak to you about your surrender."

Nocturne gave a dramatic pause. Kazumi raised his eyebrow hoping Nocturne could see his impatience from so far away, as he imagined Nocturne to be a man who fancied himself as skilled in the art of dramatic pauses. "Go on." Kazumi said.

"Half." Another pause. When Kazumi refused to acknowledge the incomplete thought, Nocturne went on, "You have about two thousand people, right? I want half of them. You take all the time you need in figuring out who you're going to give me. Once they're in my possession I'll leave the rest of you alone forever."

Kazumi nodded. The sound of Nocturne's voice made his blood boil. He had dealt with men like him before though and he had kept his cool then. Maintaining an even tone Kazumi responded, "Let me make you a better offer, Nocturne, one that will be far more economical than what you propose: Leave now. Release your prisoners. Never threaten the ALA again for as long as you live. Retire from your life of banditry and make an honest living."

Nocturne gave an airy chuckle, "And what is so 'economical' about this offer, precisely?"

"It's the only offer I'll make that includes your survival."

The pause that followed this statement was quite instructional for Nocturne. Nocturne considered this offer, among several other possible options. Kazumi let out a breath as he watched Nocturne do this; he knew Nocturne's options, but not the masked man's capabilities. Perhaps Nocturne was cool, rational, and was already prepared for Kazumi's counter-maneuver. Perhaps he was a mad dog that would lash out hatefully in response to being insulted. This uncertainty raised Kazumi's awareness of the fact that at any time he could be watching the last moments of Carly's life before Nocturne thrust her blade through her, just to make a point. Whatever Nocturne did though, it benefited Kazumi. Because Kazumi's plan was to buy as much time as he could for Bolo to get in position.

"Come on, Kazumi," Nocturne said, "It's a hundred and fifty to thirty here. I have two hundred more men back at my camp. Do you really think you're going to make it out of here with those one thousand people? They might die in the fighting! It'd be much easier to just give them up. Hell, I'm not even gonna kill them, so it's really the safest option for everyone!"

Kazumi's eyes drifted across the hilltops. If Bolo was near he was doing a damn fine job of hiding it, as there wasn't even a speck of dust thrown up by his contingent. Kazumi responded, "Forty million cor. That's the Aincrad Liberation Army's budget for this operation after the expenses I've already incurred. My second offer: Every penny of it to whomever kills Nocturne first."

Nocturne's band of merry men didn't move. Not even one of them looked to the others out of assurance or doubt- either they were fiercely loyal to Nocturne, or deathly afraid. Nocturne himself rolled his eyes, "Oh puh-lease. You think we can't make that same money better ways?"

Kazumi clenched his jaw. If Nocturne had said that Kazumi was bluffing (he was) then that would indicate he found such a sum to be unbelievable. This was the more worrying reaction, as Nocturne found forty million cor to be both believable and easy to brush off. "Perhaps it's neither fear nor loyalty, but simple greed that drives his followers." Kazumi thought, even though he couldn't imagine it; he employed mercenaries when he had to, but living a life that was bought with money rather than earned through respect or given out of love was inconceivable to him.

Nocturne drew a small knife from a pouch on his hip. "Whelp, if you won't give me what I want I guess I'll just have to deal with your second-in-command." It was a simple, glimmering blade, and he held it to Carly's throat. All of Kazumi's muscles tensed at once. If Bolo wasn't in position now, it was too late. "What's his name again?"

"Bolo!" Kazumi shouted at the top of his lungs, lifted his crossbow and fired.

The bolt sailed through the air towards Nocturne's hilltop. Nocturne reflexively lifted Carly up to block the path of the bolt... Only to find the bolt fell terribly short and merely struck the hill's face, far below even his lowest soldier. He prepared himself to laugh hysterically in Kazumi's face. But in the moment he took a breath the tip of the bolt burst and let out a high-pitched ringing noise, followed by a plume of red smoke. "Return fire! Kill them!" Nocturne shouted.

"Shields up! Release the horses!" Every one of Kazumi's thirty men deployed their tower shields from their backs. By the time Nocturne's bandits whipped their attention back to Kazumi's force they had gathered in a tight-knit bunch and locked shields, making a shield wall on horseback. Hundreds of arrows were loosed upon Kazumi's force then, but it was nothing they hadn't trained for; a million arrows could fall upon their shields and not break their formation. Once they were secure against the rain of arrows they took the next step in Kazumi's plan: Each knight unhitched the extra horse they had brought along and set them to follow the rally point that Kazumi had fired into the hill. The were originally the horses of Bolo and his company of thirty men. But their position on the battlefield required them to be on foot, allowing Kazumi to utilize their horses elsewhere.

Nocturne's eyes darted all around as he drew his own longbow. He was sweating behind his mask and trying desperately to piece together what Kazumi's full plan was. He was totally outplayed; it was only in the moment that Kazumi released the horses that he even noticed them. His predator instincts told him this battle wasn't over yet though. He still had something to gain from it, if he put his head down and pushed through. The men around him were panicking, firing uselessly at the horses as frequently as they were firing uselessly at the shield formation at the pit of the arena. That's when it hit Nocturne: Nothing had actually happened yet. Kazumi could neither advance nor retreat. Which meant he was just drawing attention. "Cease fire! Second squad, third squad, to me! To me, now!"

Nocturne's squad was "first squad", naturally, with the squad on the peak to his left being "second" and the one on his right being "third". But when Nocturne turned his attention to his right to signal second squad over he found that they-

Nocturne lurched back with breathless haste as Bolo's whip cracked the sound barrier right where Nocturne's head was a moment before. Ringing assaulted Nocturne's ears, but he didn't have time to appreciate the pain. Bolo's squad of thirty men had dismounted long before Kazumi entered the arena. The entire time Kazumi and Nocturne traded meaningless offers of clemency Bolo was sneaking up on Nocturne's position through the rocky, borderline-un-traversable expanse of jagged hills that surrounded the trail. His squad had already overtaken Nocturne's second squad, and now sought to kill the man himself.

All attention turned to Bolo's squad. That was Kazumi's cue: He drew his sword, and all his men drew with him. Kazumi screamed, "Soldiers! Swarm and attack! Prioritize the rescue of the hostages!" Kazumi snapped the reins of his horse and led the charge, speeding towards the nearest hill. Again the attention of Nocturne's archers was divided, this time between Bolo's squad attacking their leader and the opposing leader attacking them personally. Kazumi's forces stomped up the hillside, their armored bodies moving with well-trained haste. Blades erupted from the bandits' scabbards and a grisly melee was joined between the forces.

Nocturne tugged Carly back towards him in an attempt to preserve his one guaranteed token of leverage against direct attack- only for the blonde knight to kick backwards the moment he was off balance, delivering a steel-footed blow to his gut. Bolo reeled back for another attack with his whip. Nocturne watched the leather strip slither through the air. Bolo brimmed with killing intent. Carly was stumbling down the hill towards him, hands still bound, out of her mind scared, and even she could see that Bolo was lost in his own desire to murder Nocturne. But little did Bolo know that Nocturne knew of Bolo's precious "killing intent". Nocturne could not only read Bolo's killing intent, he knew precisely how to disrupt it. Because Nocturne knew Bolo.

Nocturne caught his balance and slid an arrow into his bow. He drew it back confidently, even as Bolo's whip began to travel. Nocturne's target wasn't Bolo however. Slowly, through the haze of his intent, life came back to Bolo's hollow eyes. He traced the path of Nocturne's aim towards its target: "Carly!" His whip strike would never connect in time, Bolo knew this. Nocturne knew Bolo knew, and also knew that Bolo couldn't stand to watch a child get struck down in front of his eyes. Carly's back was turned and she couldn't react fast enough to evade Nocturne's shot. It was Nocturne's last gambit: Bolo could kill him then and there, but at the cost of Carly's life. Stimulating his protective instincts, Nocturne knew what Bolo would choose.

Bolo dropped his whip and lunged forward. Carly was close enough that he reached her with a single great leap, tackling her to the ground and covering her body with his. Bolo braced to receive Nocturne's arrow... But nothing came.

"Of course not," Nocturne thought, "Even after everything we've been through, I could never kill Bolo..."

In the breath it took for Bolo to realize that Nocturne didn't fire, he whipped his head around and found that Nocturne had turned his aim away, far away. Nocturne had baited Bolo into protecting one comrade, while Nocturne's true intentions were directed at another. By the time Bolo realized it Nocturne's arrow had already flown. Its target was halfway up the second hill on his crusade across the whole arena as he tried to free every hostage Nocturne had taken.

From Bolo's core the name erupted: "KAZUMI!"

It was already too late. Nocturne's arrow struck Kazumi in the back of the neck. It was serrated and poison-tipped, so Kazumi had a moment to pull it from his body and examine the tool of his destruction. He lost most of his life in the moment of impact while the rest rapidly drained from the toxins entering his blood stream.

Kazumi looked to Bolo, and suddenly Bolo felt he was standing right next to him. They were no longer on the first floor, under the cover of an unnatural overcast, covered in dust on a hillside trail. They were in Kazumi's office having tea. They were sitting around a campfire talking about Kazumi's old job training people in the use of accounting software. They were alone in the ALA mess hall eating dinner after returning home from a late night engagement, talking about anything except Bolo. In his second-to-final moment, Kazumi allowed himself a moment to regret that he hadn't tried harder to get Bolo to talk about himself; he really wanted to know about Bolo's life before Aincrad, but he also didn't want to unbury things better left in the ground. "Seems foolish now, doesn't it? We both should've been more reckless with your heart, I think." Kazumi thought the words and somehow Bolo felt them. But in his final moment Kazumi disallowed such useless feelings as regret. It was a personal nightmare of his that he would die scared, or angry, or (ironically) suddenly. "No, I wouldn't want to live feeling those things and I don't want to die feeling those things. So I'm going to die precisely how I lived." Kazumi's life bar emptied. He turned towards the hill's slope. At the top of that hill there were vile people holding captive a young man who was too far from home. Whatever else had happened, Kazumi figured, that young man was probably terrified. So he put one foot in front of the other. These became steps. Once these steps were instilled with righteous furor, they became a charge. And Kazumi charged towards that young man with everything he had left.

Bolo watched Kazumi disappear into that charge.


End file.
